Reunion
by Morgan72uk
Summary: It's time for Gibbs to face a part of his past - but he's not going to be on his own. Jibbs
1. Prologue

Title: Reunion

Author: Morgan72uk

Rating: T

A/N - a word of warning, this is fluffy - I am going to have to write some very serious angst now to compensate. As ever thanks to Elflordsmistress for her wise words and encouragement - I was determined to give up on this but she kept me going. I may even be glad to have got it out of my system.

**Prologue**

The invitation looked up at him from the workbench as he sipped his coffee. The stark elegance of the white card with its gold trim a contrast to the sawdust it lay amongst.

But he wasn't looking at the invitation, wasn't even looking at the letter that had accompanied it. His gaze was abstracted; his mind had travelled years into the past – back to a time when he had been a different person - a husband and a father, as well as a Marine. And just as there was no such thing as a former Marine, he had never stopped being a husband and a father either. Some people might say that was the problem.

Normally he would have thrown the invitation in the trash and thought nothing more of it – it's what he did every other year. But the letter gave him pause – reminding him that there were such things as old friendships, old debts.

The letter contained a request he could not easily ignore – especially since it asked only that he gave up a little time. Though he had a busy life with a job that involved unpredictable hours he knew he would be given the time he needed. 

The reluctance was his – stemming from an unwillingness to face the past. But he was not a coward; he could face this.

Decision made, he sent a brief message to say that he would be there and, since the event was months away he tried very hard to forget all about it. And if he didn't entirely succeed then he kept the failure to himself.

TBC


	2. Part 1

**Part 1**

_...he sent a brief message to say that he would be there and, since the event was months away, he tried very hard to forget all about it. And if he didn't entirely succeed then he kept the failure to himself._

But time moved quickly and long before he was ready for it came the moment when he knew he'd have to ask for the weekend off. And although he didn't exactly foresee a problem in the request being granted, still he didn't relish the idea of making it. But, it had to be done and courtesy demanded something more than just filling in a form. 

The Director of NCIS took off her glasses and looked at the man standing across the desk from her. She'd swear he was edgy about something – which was enough to worry her, make her start wondering what this conversation was going to cost. 

When all he'd done was ask for a weekend off she was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. But she knew him too well to just agree and maybe she was a little too curious about why he wanted the time. Though if he answered that he was planning to visit a friend in Hawaii she knew if would serve her right for prying. 

"Going somewhere nice?" She enquired, knowing he wasn't remotely convinced by her casual tone.

"No," he responded. She raised an eyebrow – not sure how far she could push him, since there was no reason he had to tell her where he was going to be. "Reunion," he offered, "my unit." 

It wasn't what she was expecting – she was certain that he never normally attended reunions. "Has hell frozen over?"

"Need to see a friend – he's pretty sick – he asked me to be there." Well, that explained it. She interpreted pretty sick as actually being terminally ill – and wished that it hadn't taken something sad to persuade him to attend a reunion. 

"You taking someone with you?" It was possible that he was going to say Hollis – but somehow she didn't think so. 

"Ducky maybe,"

"He has tickets to the ballet that weekend." He didn't bother to ask how she knew that. 

"Then I guess I'm going on my own." 

"Jethro," she smiled at him. Wondering if she was actually going to have to spell it out for him. But that wasn't necessary.

"It's a Marine reunion Jen – war stories, drinking. You'd be better off at the ballet."

"Perhaps," there was no point denying that Ducky had invited her to the ballet – or telling him that she had already declined the offer. "But isn't this the kind of thing old partners do for each other?"

"I'm not coming to some college reunion with you." She smiled, trying to imagine that scenario. 

"That won't be necessary – it was last year, I didn't go." 

"Didn't want to find out how your college boyfriend looked these days?"

"Jethro – my college boyfriend was a political science professor – and I know how he looks now, I'm godmother to his daughter." He tilted his head, observing her for a moment and she knew he was trying to work out what had prompted the offer. She wasn't going to tell him that she was worried about him, that she could imagine just how much a reunion would stir up the past for him and that if she could prevent him going through that alone then she would. "So – where are we going?"

"The security implications would be…"

"I think I'll be safe surrounded by a group of Marines. But I'll co-operate with my detail and make sure they aren't a distraction. You're going to have to do better than that." In fact he was going to have to tell her point blank that he didn't want her there. She hoped he wasn't going to do that – but she ought to have remembered that he had the capacity to surprise her, giving in gracefully when she was sure he'd still be fighting her.

"We aren't leaving DiNozzo in charge."

"Of course we aren't. I want to have an agency to come back to."

TBC


	3. Part 2

A/N - thanks for the reviews, I should also mention that I know reunion fics are huge cliches - I am beating myself up about that. Also, I have no idea what a unit reunion for Marines would be like - but I am trying to be respectful.

**Part 2**

Ducky's reaction was surprising. He hadn't really intended to mention the reunion – but a question about cancer of the pancreas demanded some form of explanation. And when he'd given one, he could tell his old friend had concluded that such an event would be difficult; with too many memories to navigate. "You aren't going on your own Jethro?"

"Apparently not. Jen's insisting on coming." 

"I'm glad to hear it." He shrugged, not entirely sure he'd had a great deal of choice in the matter. "She needs the break." But he wasn't exactly expecting that.

"Ducks?"

"She works very long hours, her job is highly stressful – a weekend away will do her a lot of good." Gibbs snorted and didn't point out that he wasn't sure playing politics was particularly stressful. 

"She seems fine." 

"Of course she does. She's a lot better than she was when – well, I'm sure you know." 

He thought about the woman who'd been so amused when he'd found himself in the middle of a case featuring an ex wife and (at the time) current lover. Who'd known in seconds that something was wrong when Maddie had come to him for help. The woman who'd taken a mini DiNozzo into her home – even though he'd manipulated her into doing so. She wasn't different in any way he could really identify – but she wasn't consumed by secrets either. 

"That why you invited her to the ballet – to give her a break?"

"Manon is stunning – I'm surprised she declined, but of course now I know she's going to be at your reunion." Gibbs decided this wasn't the moment to mention that Jen had already turned down the trip to the ballet when he'd told her about the reunion; but he filed the information away for further consideration. 

* * *

Jen would have preferred not to have mentioned her weekend away – to anyone, but that wasn't the way her life worked. She'd had to inform her security detail, who had run discrete checks on the venue and the other guests.She'd booked a suite - working on the assumption that Jethro had sorted out his own accommodation and she'd arranged for another team leader to stand in for her, without having to explain why she wasn't asking Gibbs. Apparently the entire agency had decided one stint of Gibbs as acting Director was enough for this lifetime. 

She wasn't completely surprised to find herself having an oblique conversation with Ducky a few days before the reunion. The medical examiner wanted to make quite sure she understood that whatever he told her, Gibbs was bound to find the reunion difficult. She'd listened, drawn him back to the subject at hand when he seemed to have wandered off track and, after he'd left realised that she had no idea what the advice he'd offered had really meant.

At least Abby hadn't bothered being oblique – turning up at her office door far too early on the morning before the reunion and all but demanding she make sure Gibbs was all right. It was a little alarming – she hadn't had nearly enough coffee to deal with Abby when she was that worried. But somehow she managed to calm her down, promising that she would do whatever was necessary, before sending her back to the lab.

But it did make her think that she hadn't quite figured out how she was going to get Jethro through this. Especially since she was pretty sure he wouldn't admit that he needed her help.

TBC


	4. Part 3

A/N - thanks for the reviews. 

**Part 3**

There were no emergencies, no cases that only he could handle. His team was pleasantly surprised to be off for the weekend and knew better than to ask questions. Only Ducky and Abby were aware what was happening – and Jen of course. 

He relaxed a notch the moment he saw the familiar figure – the hair that he remembered as being dark and long was gray now and cut short, but she was still a blur of energy. He lingered on the edge of the private room where they were having dinner, just to enjoy watching her send the hotel staff about their business; making sure everything was organised to her high standards. She was a force to be reckoned with and one of the kindest souls he'd ever met. So kind in fact that you almost didn't notice how perceptive she was – until she told you something you'd rather not know, or weren't ready to admit.

"Anything I can do to help?" he said, stepping further into the room, suddenly very glad he'd arrived early. 

"You can come over here and give me a hug." She didn't even come up to his shoulder, but he wouldn't even have considered disobeying her. 

"Hello Kathleen."

"Leroy Jethro Gibbs. It's been far too long." Ageless features looked back at him and he found he couldn't possibly disagree. It had been too long. "Pete will be so glad to see you."

"How's he doing?"

"Good days and bad days. Our third grandchild is due in a couple of months – he's holding on for that. He's been looking forward to this as well." She patted his arm gently, "it's going to be all right – just a few hours with old friends. Nothing you can't handle." He nodded, letting himself believe her because it seemed easier – because he wasn't the one with a terminal illness. She frowned, "I thought you were bringing someone with you?"

"She can't have left him already," a familair voice said from behind him. 

"Skipper," Gibbs turned, coming face to face with the man who'd taken him under his wing a lifetime ago, looked after him, even saved his life once. He was glad he'd talked to Ducky, glad he'd been prepared for what a battle with cancer could do to someone. Though Pete Miller might have shrunk into his six foot four frame – his strength and determination shone through like a beacon. 

But Gibbs felt the guilt slam into him just the same – knowing he should have made more of an effort to stay in touch, that this shouldn't be the first time he was seeing Pete since the diagnosis. He'd been taught better than that – this man had taught him better. 

"She's been delayed," he said as he clapped Pete on the back and spared a quick thought for Jen - who'd still been in MTAC when he'd left. "She's hoping to get here soon."

"How about a drink," Pete said, glancing at his wife – his expression suddenly mischievous, "before she has you moving tables." Gibbs glanced over at Kathleen – who sighed, looked from one of them to the other and then made a shooing gesture with her hands.

"I don't want the two of you under my feet while I'm finalising the arrangements for dinner."

"You see," Pete looped his arm over Gibbs' shoulders, "nothing changes, Kathleen still wears the pants. Come on Jethro – buy me a drink and tell me what you've been doing with yourself." 

By the time he was on his second beer more people had arrived. He'd been recognised, patted on the back, teased. He felt a lot like the prodigal son, though he wasn't really comfortable with the attention. But he wasn't here to be comfortable; he was here because he owed Pete far more than a few hours of his time. The ribbing was good-natured, and though it would have earned DiNozzo a slap to the head, he knew different rules applied here. 

"So, about this woman," Pete began, returning to a subject Gibbs thought they'd safely parked some time ago. "Who did you say she is?"

"Used to be my partner." It was strange to describe Jen that way, but he wasn't prepared to explain further and it seemed far easier not to mention that she was the Director of NCIS. 

"And she hasn't stood you up?" Someone else asked, 

"She's on her way." Others joined in – trying to draw more information out of him,which of course he was reluctant to provide. They'd see for themselves at some point.

"Something tells me she's a red head." Pete said, the amusement and certainty in his tone enough to make Gibbs turn and look towards the entrance. Sure enough, Jen was standing in the doorway. 

"That's her," he confirmed. Waiting for her gaze to find him, making no move to get up and greet her.

"Wow," someone breathed, "is she single Gunny?" Gibbs rolled his eyes – Jen Shepard and a room full of Marines – not all of them married; none of them blind – he should have expected this.

"As far as I know,"

"Way out of your league." Pete commented, his gaze travelling between Gibbs and the woman now making her way over to them, his expression still amused. Somehow it wouldn't have been a surprise if he'd added, 'yours too Gunny'.

TBC


	5. Part 4

A/N - thanks for the reviews

**Part 4**

As she crossed the room Jen was roundly cursing both SecNav, who'd needed to talk to her just once more and the NCIS team in LA who had messed up so spectacularly she was going to have to get on a plane next week to go out there and sort it out. The combination of factors had kept her behind in DC - she hadn't intended for Jethro to face any of this alone. 

She took a calming breath – perfectly aware how many people were looking at her right now and very experienced in making it look as though she couldn't care less. In truth was she was feeling a little frazzled, she'd got changed in the back of the car, sent her security detail up to the room with her bags and given them a stern lecture about keeping a low profile over the next 24 hours. Her hair wasn't co-operating and she wasn't sure about this dress - but none of that mattered right now. 

Some discrete research had told her how important Pete Miller had been to Jethro – still was; though he'd likely never admit it. The same research had made it clear that he'd had very little contact with members of his old unit since waking from his coma to discover his wife and child had been killed. There was no doubt that every second of this reunion was going to remind him of what he'd lost, every time someone told him about their family he was going to be faced with it – and everyone here was fully aware of that loss. For a man who locked away his feelings that had to be particularly hard to handle. For a moment the nature of her task overwhelmed her and she wished that she felt more confident of her ability to help him. But they were where they were. 

She knew him well – though that didn't mean she could read him, not always. She'd realised, very soon after becoming Director in fact, that it would be easier for everyone if they believed that she was fluent in 'Gibbs'- even if she wasn't. Since her return her skills had improved, it was a lot like returning to a language, she was surprised how easily it had come back to her. But her proficiency was far from complete, she doubted if a lifetime of study would be long enough to accomplish that. However, she'd always been good at improvising.

As she got close she could see that he was OK at the moment – though the tension was clear, if you knew what to look for. It was there on the edges of his stance, in his eyes. It was the way he looked when a case was starting to get to him and he hadn't worked out what the next step was yet. 

She wasn't surprised that he'd let her make the walk to his side on her own, with everyone looking at her. She knew that he wasn't going to make this easy for her, that not for a single moment would he accept that he needed her, or needed anyone. It wasn't going to be an easy night.

She looked past Jethro, to the man sitting by his side and felt some of her tension slip away. Wise eyes twinkled back at her and the right one slid into an almost wink, as though he knew exactly what she was worried about and was going to do anything he could to help. She was smiling as she reached them, 

"I'm Pete," he held out his hand to her.

"Jenny," she shook hands – feeling the strength in his handshake, glad that his body was holding on against the disease that ravaged it. She made no attempt to offer her second name, determined not to be the Director of NCIS this weekend if she could help it. 

"He's told us almost nothing about you," Pete said, pointing to Gibbs, who shrugged. "Except that you used to be his partner." 

"And we don't believe him. There's no way you're a Navy cop." Another man leant forward, offering her his hand and introducing himself, "Mac."

"Nice to meet you Mac."

She looked over her shoulder at Gibbs – who seemed amused by the observation, though it was a little hard to tell. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I am. Gibbs took me on when I was a probie, so green…" 

"That she threw up the first time she saw an autopsy." She'd offered him the prompt to tell the old story – knowing that he'd probably take it, hoping that it would get them over what could have been an awkward moment. She realised that this occasion was going to be a lot like being undercover, that she was going to have to pay attention all the time, to every small detail. It was too much to expect that he'd open up and actually talk to her; this was Leroy Jethro Gibbs after all. She was just going to have to hope that watching his back would be enough.

* * *

Dinner was informal, with lots of circulating and lots of stories. She'd been introduced as Jenny, told a few people that she worked with Jethro and used to be his partner, careful not to use the word friend; at least not in his hearing. She suspected people were still watching, trying to figure it out, wondering if she was more than a colleague. 

His years of absence meant that Gibbs was the centre of attention – everyone seemed to want to speak to him. As she listened it became clear that he had a lot of catching up to do, that people's lives had moved on and that a lot of people were curious about his life. And still she was wary, knew that he was as well, because the memories were there, in the shadows.

"Guys, do you remember the pig?" There were groans amidst the laughter as someone began what she suspected was a story that was funnier if you'd been there at the time. 

At her shoulder Jethro shook his head, a hint of a smile on his lips, "Dave, I thought we'd agreed never to mention the pig." 

"Aw Gunny, it was years ago." 

"All the more reason not to mention it now." There were sniggers and more laughter and then Dave's wife, who she thought was called Sara said,

"I've never seen a group of men look quite so pathetic – I still can't believe Shannon let you…" and then the laughter died away suddenly, leaving behind it an awkward silence. "Oh God – I'm sorry." 

His face had closed down, was set like stone and Jen wanted to reach out to him, but knew that wouldn't help. There was always going to be this moment at some point over the weekend and she wished she'd thought more, prepared more for it. The silence stretched and she knew she was going to have to rescue things. 

"When we were in the Czech Republic, we once had to hide in a field full of cows for 6 hours." She said, reaching for the first thing that came into her mind – the tenuous connection between pigs and cows.

"Sounds like there's a story behind that," Pete commented and she was grateful for the assistance. She risked another look at Gibbs and found his gaze was on her – his expression filled with old pain. She sucked in a breath, knowing that they all needed her to get them past this. 

"We were supposed to be investigating a smuggling ring, but someone," and here she glanced over her shoulder once more – letting her audience know who the someone in question was, "had a theory about where the stuff they were smuggling might be hidden. Unfortunately he was right about the location, but wrong that there would be a minimal guard. We ended up making a very rapid escape – on foot. The field was very muddy – among other things; we smelt disgusting afterwards."

* * *

Gibbs needed a moment of silence, a moment to himself and since there were no elevators in the immediate vicinity he'd retreated to the bar. He'd told Jen that he'd be back, not sure why he wanted her to know that he wasn't straying too far, relieved when she let him go without argument; even though she looked concerned. He knew now why she'd insisted on coming with him – and he was grateful that she'd been there, got them all through the moment when the memories had threatened to engulf him. 

She'd embellished the story – made it funnier than it actually had been and let it lead seamlessly into questions about their time in Europe. It was strange to hear her talk about it, to bring that aspect of their past back to life. Listening to her he had remembered the people she had been describing, the people they'd been once upon a time. Guiltily he realised that it wasn't just the memories of his first wife and daughter that had made him desperate for a moment alone.

"You OK Gunny?" 

"Fine," he watched Pete move slowly onto the barstool, concerned that he looked tired and more fragile than he had a few hours before. "Should I get Kathleen?"

"Nah, I'll be OK. Get me a drink? Kathleen's busy talking to Jenny." Gibbs looked back into the main room and couldn't decide what he thought about seeing the two women with their heads close together, obviously deep in conversation. "You worried – she knows all your secrets?"

"Kathleen, or Jen?" 

Pete chuckled, "Kathleen knows everything – I stopped trying to figure out how a long time ago. I don't know about Jenny, depends what you told her I suppose, or what she managed to find out for herself. But she knows about Shannon – and Kelly?"

"Found out a couple of years ago." He didn't want to dwell too much on why she'd found out – or how she'd reacted. But he remembered her eyes the only time they'd even come close to discussing it, after his 'retirement' had ended. "I don't talk about the past much." 

"People talk about too many things these days." Pete raised his glass and Gibbs acknowledged both the toast and the point. "But since you are here and we are talking about it - we should have done more, at the time. We were a family; we should have helped you. Kathleen wanted to – but I made her leave you alone, made all of them leave you alone. I didn't realise you'd stay away so long Jethro, I'm sorry." 

This wasn't the time to equate apologies with weakness – especially because this man definitely wasn't weak. It had never occurred to him that Pete might have been waiting to tell him this, might have needed to tell him. He shouldn't have stayed away so long.

"It wouldn't have helped Skipper – I needed to get away. Sometimes family is too close." Pete nodded, taking a sip of his drink. 

"So, Jenny is here to watch your six?" Gibbs shrugged, admitting to himself that he might just need her help was one thing, conceding as much to anyone else was another altogether. But apparently the gesture was enough. "Smart," Pete said, and then added, "so, you want to tell me who the hell she really is and why she needs a security detail? A couple of the guys noticed them outside; so far I'm the only one who's put the pieces together. They are here because of her – right?"

He knew it was too much to expect that they'd get away with it, was annoyed with himself for not expecting people to figure it out. "She was my partner. Now she's the Director of NCIS, first woman to head an armed Federal Agency." 

"And a target?"

"She attracts trouble like - well,"

"Like you maybe? The two of you must have had a hell of a time." Gibbs raised an eyebrow at that – not sure what Pete was asking him. He glanced across the room again, to where Jen was still talking to Kathleen. It felt good to have something else to think about it – to be watching out for her while she watched out for him, the way they'd worked when they were partners – the way they operated now, although neither of them chose to admit it. He remembered what Ducky had said when he'd found out Jen was coming with him.

"She could do with a couple of days away from it Skip." Pete nodded, 

"I'll tell the guys to batten down the hatches then."

TBC


	6. Part 5

A/N - thanks for the reviews.

**Part 5**

Jen needed a drink – but she'd been nursing a single glass of wine for most of the night and she knew she couldn't afford to let her guard down. She was considering going after Jethro – though she knew he'd hate it if he thought she was checking up on him, even though that was exactly what she was doing.

"Have some cake," a voice said – setting a plate down in front of her, "it's very good."

"I'm sure it is," she'd been introduced to Kathleen earlier, hadn't decided what she thought yet about the tiny woman who everyone seemed to defer to. "I was just going to look for Jethro."

"He's fine – well, maybe not fine - but Pete's with him." Jen nodded, recognising that there were currents here that she didn't entirely understand but deciding to trust her instincts – and let the two men have the time alone that she thought they might both need. " Try the cake and don't even think about telling me you're watching your weight."

It wasn't often that she got told what to do like this – but she was having a night off from being the Director so she decided to just go with it. And the cake looked damn good. She took a forkful and decided it tasted as good as it looked. "Amazing right? Carole made it – she has her own shop."

"Can I get the address?"

"I'll introduce you later," the two women shared a smile before Kathleen said, "you're here to watch his back. You must have been pretty worried about what we were going to do to him."

Jen put the fork down, thinking about what to say. Knowing that whatever it was had to be real, that she couldn't bluff this woman – shouldn't even try. "A couple of months ago a young woman turned up, looking for Jethro's help. Turned out to be Maddie Tyler, Kelly's best friend - she was being stalked. He didn't say much but I knew it was getting to him, that it was personal. I tried to keep up, tried to watch his back. I failed. The case ended with one of his own agents pulling him and Maddie out of the docks and giving them mouth to mouth."

Soft fingers brushed against her hand for a moment, an unexpected gesture of support that made her think she had probably given too much away. "And you don't make the same mistake twice?"

"Not if I can help it." She wasn't entirely sure they were talking about watching Jethro's back anymore, though she didn't think they'd strayed too far from the subject. She doubted he'd said anything about their relationship – about it's messy ending, but she didn't discount the possibility that Kathleen knew something. Her eyes were asking a question Jen knew she wasn't ready to answer.

The sound of raised voices meant she didn't need to. She saw several former Marines in the doorway and Jethro moving rapidly towards them. Beyond that she caught a glimpse of one of the members of her detail and someone who was arguing with him, trying to get past.

"What's happening?" Kathleen said.

"I'll find out." She got to her feet but before she had taken much more than a few steps in the direction of the fracas one of the guys, Dave, she thought, intercepted her.

"There's nothing to worry about, Gunny is taking care of it."

"Taking care of what?"

"Gatecrasher I think, seriously – nothing to worry about." Even though she was taking the night off she would likely have insisted had he not said, "He has it under control, ma'am." He wasn't just being polite; there was steel in his voice and a hint of respect. She nodded, letting him lead her back to the table, where Kathleen had watched the whole exchange with interest.

"Is everything OK?"

Jen nodded, as she took her seat. "Everything is fine – apparently I'm getting to finish my cake."

Half an hour later she felt a familiar presence at her shoulder and turned as Jethro approached. He looked pleased with himself about something, which should probably worry her. "Got a moment?"

She followed him to a quiet corner of the room, waiting until they were out of earshot before asking, "what's going on?"

"Local reporter heard you were here and tried to get an interview. Your detail handled it, but they're worried about the security breach."

"How did he hear?"

"One of the clerk's tipped him off – for a fee. I talked to him, don't think he let anyone else in on the act." Talked to him probably meant interrogated, but under the circumstances she wasn't too worried that he might have scared the clerk.

"What did you tell him?"

"The clerk?"

"The reporter." Jethro combined with the press was at times dangerous. He ducked her gaze, confirming her suspicions.

"That you were here in a private capacity and that if he wanted an interview he should contact the press office." Somehow she didn't think he'd phrased it quite like that. But she nodded, accepting that he'd dealt with the problem.

"Who knows that the security detail is mine?"

"Pete and a couple of the guys. No one's going to say anything Jen – they get that you wanted to keep a low profile. I talked to the detail – they're going to do a sweep but they don't think it's necessary to move you." She sighed, hating that this event was suddenly about her.

"You aren't supposed to be watching out for me."

"It's what old partners do – remember?" She nodded, looking up at him in time to catch a flicker of something in his eyes. It was the sort of something that made her heart slam into her ribs, though it had vanished so quickly she wondered if she'd imagined it.

"How's Pete?" He looked away for a moment.

"Hanging on, he wants to see his third grandchild, he's got a couple of months to go."

"You were close to him?"

"Taught me what it meant to be a Marine." He took a breath; "I've let him down, should have stayed in touch." The confession stunned her and she was speechless for a moment – but she knew that she couldn't fail to respond.

"You had your reasons Jethro."

"Yeah, I know." He shrugged as though he wasn't prepared to discuss it any further, she didn't take it personally. "How about a drink?"

Pete Miller put his arms around his wife's shoulders and pulled her close. He followed her gaze – not surprised to find her watching Jethro and Jenny. "Who is she?" she asked, knowing he'd have got it out of Gibbs by now.

"His boss," Pete said, with a short bark of laughter. "Only Jethro!"

"Only Jethro indeed. You about ready for bed?"

"No,"

"Too bad," he knew it was pointless to argue with her but, playing for time, he glanced back across the room.

"What do you think?" She sighed, recognising the tactic, but indulged him for a moment longer.

"I think that tomorrow is going to be an interesting day and that if you're going to enjoy it, you need to get some rest now."

"That wasn't what I meant," he grumbled.

"He'll be all right," she told him, following his gaze, letting it rest on Gibbs for a moment. "She isn't going to let anything happen to him."

Pete nodded, reassured by her words and by the sight of the woman at Jethro's shoulder, a watchful expression in her eyes. Acknowledging that she could handle the rest of the night and could likely handle Gibbs, he let Kathleen lead him back to the group so they could say their goodnights.

TBC


	7. Part 6

* * *

A/N - thanks for the reviews.

**Part 6**

They had by no means been the last ones to leave – a fact he was grateful for the next morning, when several of the others were suffering from serious hangovers. He'd walked Jen to her suite – fully aware that her detail was still worried about security, seen her safely inside with a quiet 'goodnight' and then retreated to his own room for a nightcap. And tried to tell himself that he was feeling unsettled only because this reunion had awoken memories of Shannon and Kelly.

He'd managed to convince himself – until the following morning when he was waiting in the hotel lobby and the sight of Jen wearing a bright green top and pale trousers quite literally made his jaw drop. "It's rude to stare," Kathleen said, materialising at his shoulder. "Although if you are going to stare, you might at least let her see you doing it." She was gone before he could find a suitable reply, although he could swear he heard her laughter.

"Good morning, Jethro." Jen held out a cup of coffee, which he accepted with gratitude - if only because it gave him something else to look at. They stepped out into the bright sunshine and he noticed the large bag on her shoulder that she was rummaging in, looking for her sunglasses he assumed.

"Expecting to be gone for a long time?" He asked, amused by the amount of stuff she seemed to be carrying with her.

"Prepared for a day at the park – that is what's happening today?"

"So they tell me."

The people still nursing hangovers stayed in the shade – but everyone else was intent on making the most of the sunshine. The picnic involved a larger group of people - families, friends and Gibbs knew that it would be easier than the previous night. That here he could just be Gunny, who hadn't been around for a while – without having to worry about what people knew about his past, what they might say in unguarded moments.

He let himself relax – concentrating on being around Pete and Kathleen, in case they needed anything. Jen was too astute not to pick up on his mood – she didn't say anything, though she seemed to relax as well. She was still watchful, he knew that if he needed her she'd step in – whether he asked her to or not. But the familiarity of having her there, of trusting her was starting to play on his mind, bringing back old memories and feelings he didn't know what to do about.

* * *

A group of Marines, their friends and family – she wasn't sure why it had taken this long to get competitive. The impromptu soccer match had drawn in most of the men, the older kids and several of the women. Jethro had resisted for a while but eventually he'd given in. Right now she was settled on a rug, ignoring the book she was supposed to be reading and watching him over the top of her sunglasses as he proved to be just as competitive as everyone else. She considered reaching for her phone and trying to get a picture, because Abby and the others would never believe this unless she had evidence. But, she resisted the urge and instead watched him as he ran around – acknowledging that he looked good.

"Enjoying the view?"

"Watching the game," she smiled up at Kathleen, who didn't look remotely convinced. "He's enjoying himself."

"You sound surprised?"

"It's been a while."

"Too long maybe." Well, there was no arguing with that and Kathleen didn't seem to expect her to try. "Time for a change perhaps?"

"It's not that simple,"

Kathleen smiled – an inscrutable, wise smile that seemed to imply she knew more than she was prepared to share. "Watch the game," she said, "see who wins."

Jen wasn't much of a soccer fan and she was really only interested in watching Jethro, though she wasn't sure she wanted him to know that. When he stepped out of the game and jogged back over her, she turned her attention back to the book she'd been ignoring for the last half an hour.

"Having fun?" She enquired, looking over at him, trying to ignore the effect the sight of him all hot and sweaty had on her, even as she cursed herself for her weakness.

"Sure – how about you?" He reached for a bottle of water and she made herself look down at the page, trying for nonchalant.

"I don't get to sit in the sunshine and read a book very often Jethro,"

"I can tell – you're getting freckles."

"I'm not,"

"Sure you are, just here…" her fingers closed around his wrist as he reached for her and they both froze at the contact.

"Don't even think about it," she breathed. Distracted by the feel of his pulse underneath her fingertips, but not so distracted that she didn't notice his other hand closing around the water bottle. Not sure what she was warning him about, though his smile told her that he'd thought about splashing her.

"Jen,"

"Try it and I'll shoot you." She let go of his wrist and raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to push her.

"You're definitely getting freckles," he said as he took another swig of the water and then jogged back to the soccer match. She didn't know about that – but watching the play of muscle under his t-shirt she could definitely say she was feeling the heat. This was not the kind of watching his back she was supposed to be doing.

TBC


	8. Part 7

A/N - thanks for the reviews. I think this part is down to Elflordsmistress...

**Part 7**

He ducked out of the game again – settling on the sidelines so he could watch. It wasn't exactly a coincidence that he'd picked a spot that enabled him to keep Jen in his line of sight. But Pete, who'd ambled over to join him hadn't commented on it. He hadn't said much at all, giving the impression that he was concentrating on the game – but Gibbs knew him too well not to expect an observation at some point.

For now the silence suited his mood. His reaction to Jen's touch had unsettled him – because he had nearly reciprocated, because the prospect of touching her was tantalising still and because there was a voice in his head telling him that it was about time.

She'd wandered away from the rug, was talking to a couple of the other women, and had evidently made quite an impression on one small girl, who was holding onto her hand. He smiled as she bent down to speak to the child, playfully tugging at her blonde ponytail.

"Carole's the one who made the cake last night," Pete said, nodding towards the woman Jen was conversing with. "She's got a pretty fancy shop. I'm not sure how happy Tom is that she's making such a success of it, they've been having some problems. Gracie was a bit of a surprise a few years back – great kid though, seems to have taken a shine to Jenny."

"She's good with kids," he replied, ignoring the frisson of pain the remark caused him.

"Doesn't want any of her own?"

"I wouldn't know." But his eyes hadn't left her and he knew that Pete was reading between the lines.

"You and her?"

"Water under the bridge."

"You sure about that?"

"No," of course he wasn't sure. He couldn't be when he realised that these last few months she had practically come back to life before his very eyes, shaken off the demons that haunted her – or tried to anyway. Now he wondered how he'd missed it, ignored it for this long.

"You planning to do something about it?" Was he? It would be rife with complications and he had no idea how she would respond.

"Thinking about it." He wasn't going to admit to Pete that he had no idea what he was going to do, but apparently he'd reached that conclusion all by himself.

"Just let it happen – I don't think she's going to run away."

Just letting it happen was more complicated than it sounded, though he realised there was less chance of something giving him that opening if they were on different sides of the field. So, he grabbed some food and settled back onto the rug to wait her out.

He wasn't disappointed, he hadn't been back long when she joined him, kneeling on the blanket and reaching into the oversized bag he'd teased her about earlier. "Everything all right?" he asked as she rummaged through it.

"Commissioning a cake for Abby's birthday – black, shaped like a coffin." He was surprised by the gesture, knew Abby would probably love it. But before he could tell her so, his attention was grabbed by the way she was rubbing sunscreen into her bare arms.

"Need some help with that?" It wasn't perhaps the smoothest line he'd ever come up with.

Her mouth went dry at the way he was looking at her. "I think I can manage."

"What about your back?" Well, she supposed she didn't want a burnt back.

"Thanks." She handed him the lotion and turned around, trying for nonchalant - a battle she lost the moment he moved her hair out of the way. When his hands started to rub the liquid into her back it was all she could do not to melt into a puddle.

It was embarrassing not to have more control, but her body wasn't exactly co-operating right now and as his hands dipped under the material of her top; curving over her shoulders, places that definitely didn't need sunscreen, she arched back – seeking more contact.

"Jen," his mouth was far too close to her ear and despite the warmth of the day she shivered. His hands fell away and she turned to look at him – knowing that her eyes were probably begging him to continue.

He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his fingers cupping her cheek, tilting her head as he moved towards her. They were a heartbeat away from a kiss, lost in their own world – a world which was shattered by a wolf whistle and a cry of, "go Gunny!"

They jerked apart, the moment lost. She was mortified at being caught or possibly that they had been interrupted and she would have pulled away, but his hand over hers where it rested on the rug stopped her. "I'm not going to pretend that didn't just happen Jen."

She started to tell him that it wasn't a good idea, wasn't what they were supposed to be doing this weekend, that it was just the memories and the proximity. But, she wasn't sure she'd convince her own traitorous body of that, let alone persuade him.

"And neither should you." She couldn't find an answer; it was all she could do to nod. But apparently it was enough – because he leaned forward again, this time to brush his lips against her cheek. And again they were interrupted.

TBC


	9. Part 8

A/N - thanks for the reviews

**Part 8**

"Gunny!"

"Is there a gun in that bag of yours?" He asked, dropping his head to her shoulder for a moment before looking up to see what all the fuss was about. And apparently they weren't the centre of attention this time. "Damn!"

"What is it?" He got to his feet – knowing there was no way to stop her from funding out.

"Reporter from last night is back." She looked past him to see her detail, who had been keeping a remarkably low profile on the fringes of the park, talking to a man. "I guess he still wants an interview."

"Well, he's going to be disappointed." Anyone at NCIS would have recognised her expression – and probably made a dash for cover. Gibbs followed her across the park, gesturing for everyone else to let her handle this.

"Is there a problem?" She demanded – looking at the senior member of her detail.

"Press, ma'am."

"Director Shepard, I just want an interview – half an hour of your time." He looked ridiculously young and full of his own importance, she wasn't his ticket to a better job but knew he might not see things the same way.

"I'm here in a private capacity – no interviews." He quailed, just a little in the face of her glare and icy tone. She didn't want to consider that she was particularly annoyed because of the moment he had just interrupted. "What's your name?"

"Ryan Jacobs – ma'am."

"Do you know what you're interrupting here Ryan, do you even care?"

"A reunion?"

"These men are Marines – they're here with their families, their friends. They've served their country and if you think for a single moment that I'm the story, then you're not much of a reporter." She glanced over at Pete, who was watching the exchange with curiosity, not sure if he would welcome what she was about to do. A light touch brushed across her back and she knew, without even having to look that Jethro was right there – offering support and probably his own brand of intimidation.

"Why not ask them if they'll to talk to you, for the thirty minutes you wanted from me and then you need to let them get back to enjoying their day." She exchanged a glance with the detail, silently communicating that she expected them to make sure he left after the allotted time period.

"Come on son," Pete said – his gaze sliding beyond Jenny to where Gibbs waited at her shoulder, "why don't you ask some of the wives what it's like being married to a Marine?" Jacobs looked a little dazed by the speed at which the tables had been turned on him, no doubt that wasn't the story he'd been hoping for – but he didn't argue.

* * *

Gibbs knew he needed to get her to calm down, especially if he wanted to recapture their mood from earlier and he was pretty sure that he wanted to recapture that particular mood. "Let's take a walk," he suggested, when he was happy the others had the situation under control.

She nodded once but didn't break the silence she'd lapsed into - which wasn't quite the effect he had intended, especially since he could practically hear the second-guessing she was doing. He touched his hand to her back again and guided her over in the direction of a small copse. "So," he searched for a neutral subject, "why didn't you want to go to the ballet with Ducky?" And then wished he'd kept quiet when he saw her face. "Jen?"

"I was 12 when I went to the ballet for the first time, my father took me to see Swan Lake and it was magical. He took me to the ballet whenever he could – even when I grew up. Since he died, I've been a couple of times – but it wasn't the same. I'm trying to let go of my ghosts Jethro – I wasn't sure an evening at the ballet would accomplish that."

He didn't like the hollow tone in her voice as she recounted the tale, or the thought that instead she was here with him – another ghost, something else she might be trying to let go. He couldn't ask the question – not now, when she was starting to represent the things he thought he wanted to hold onto.

"And I wouldn't have let you go through this alone." She added, looking around – apparently realising how far they'd walked. "What's going on?"

"I wanted to make sure that no one interrupted," he said, taking her by the shoulders and pushing her gently back against one of the trees, "this time." He gave her plenty of opportunity to stop him, but the smile tugging at her lips told him that she wasn't going to.

She met him halfway, lips brushing together carefully once, twice – before she curled her hand around his neck, pulling him closer and parting her lips beneath his. "Do that again," she murmured a little later, her eyes still closed.

"As many times as you like," he promised as he touched his lips to her forehead, her cheek, then down to her ear where a tug to her earlobe made her breath catch and her fingernails dig into his arm.

TBC


	10. Part 9

A/N - thanks for the reviews. This is the last part - but stay tuned for the epilogue - which will follow.

Part 9

"They're back," Pete said, watching his errant friend emerge from the copse.

"Don't stare," Kathleen hissed, knowing it was likely a pointless exercise – he'd never been subtle. "Can you at least try to be discrete?" And then, since he was looking anyway she added, "what are they doing?"

"Walking – they don't seem any different; oh actually she looks pretty angry with him about something." That did the trick.

"Oh for heavens sake! What's wrong with them?" All pretence at not looking abandoned, Kathleen turned around – wanting to confirm for herself that even though the couple had been alone, in a very secluded area for half an hour somehow things had not progressed in the promising manner she'd hoped. Only to find that she was actually the victim of her beloved husband's sense of humour.

"I don't believe you just did that to me!" Pete was laughing at her and she huffed and muttered about what a nightmare he was, though actually it was good to hear the sound of his laughter.

When she'd finished scolding him she took another look at the couple who were ambling their way back across the park. They didn't look angry at all; in fact a careful observer might notice that Jenny's hair was slightly mussed, as though someone had been running his hands through it. The same observer might also notice that they were walking just a little closer to one another, hands brushing in a way that could be accidental – but probably wasn't.

When they reached the others, Kathleen and Pete were by no means the only people to notice that Jen settled with her back resting against his legs, or that from time to time he would touch her; gently, carefully – as though he was reassuring himself that she was still there.

* * *

The rest of the afternoon passed with more food, more stories and for those with the energy – more running around with the children. As it grew later the mood became quieter, more reflective and talk turned to fallen comrades. Though they weren't in physical contact any longer Jen could sense Gibbs becoming more distracted, could see the tension growing in his eyes. As they started to make toasts she got up from the chair she'd been perched on and crossed to his side. She didn't want to break the mood, knew that these were memories this group shared and needed to express. But she wanted to offer him a little of her strength.

She leant her head against his shoulder – waiting for his response. Their kisses had been passionate, all kinds of promises implicit in the way he'd behaved. But this was different and realistically she knew they didn't stand a chance second time around if he wasn't prepared to let her in – just a little. She wasn't expecting miracles, knew that the leopard didn't change his spots; she could be every bit as stubborn and uncommunicative as he was and more than capable of baiting him. On paper this had disaster written all over it.

She closed her eyes when he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. She'd never been a big believer in analysing situations solely based on what was written down – she'd been taught to trust her instincts after all.

* * *

As he pulled into the driveway Gibbs turned to look at his companion. They'd both been quiet on the way home; the silence comfortable, rather than awkward. She'd given him some time alone with Pete and Kathleen before they left – an opportunity to say goodbye. It was a difficult thing to do, knowing just how sick Pete was – making him regret all over again the years he'd stayed away.

But he couldn't change that. He was determined not to be a stranger now and to give Kathleen all the support she needed over the coming months. Though both Kathleen and Pete, had been far more interested in what was happening between he and Jen – not that he had any plans to kiss and tell.

Her detail had protested mildly when he'd offered to drive her back , but their objection had been sharply overruled. He looked into the rear view mirror and saw the dark car pull into the street. He knew that if they were going to do this, he was going to have to get used to the security that surrounded her – she really didn't need any further encouragement to take risks.

"This is not my house," she pointed out quietly.

"I was going to work on the boat for a while – thought you might like to help." He saw her hesitate, knew she was thinking of all that waited for her, wondering about what had stacked up while she had been away.

Already he could sense the complications, the reasons that this was a bad idea and couldn't possibly work. He was sure she was asking herslef if she had let things develop too fast, without considering the consequences. He could let her go now, hope that they would figure it out after all. But it had been a difficult few days, he needed the solace of working on his boat and he wanted her there with him.

"The weekend's not over yet Jen," he said. Her lips curved into her smile and she reached over and touched her hand to his cheek, before opening the car door to get out.

"I know."

The End


	11. Epilogue

A/N - Thanks for reading

**Epilogue**

It was gray and cold, very different from a day they'd spent in the park – months ago now. She stepped away from the crowd, nodding to familiar faces as she returned to the grave, to the man who still stood before it, his head bowed.

Pete Miller had got to hold his granddaughter, got to see the first few weeks of her life before finally succumbing to cancer. She'd liked the man – been moved by his dignity, his strength and she was fully aware how hard his death had hit one Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

He'd been quiet for the last few days, since returning from the hospital with the news that Pete had died. But it was Gibbs and often he spoke without using words – some of the time she even understood him. He'd been keeping his distance during the day, working on his boat during the evening and though she'd expected him to insist on sleeping in the basement, every night she'd woken to find him slipping into bed and wrapping himself around her. Last night ... well, it was a good thing she was used to running the agency on next to no sleep - because last night he had needed to celebrate life. She didn't think they'd slept at all.

She watched him – knowing that he was paying his last respects to a man who had shaped the person he had become. Quietly she stepped towards him, sliding her hand into his as she reached his side. He squeezed her fingers and then said, "Is Kathleen all right?"

"She's asking for you."

"I'll be there in a moment."

It was a little longer than that before he joined her, but not as long as she'd feared.

He kissed Kathleen on the cheek, spoke quietly to her - promising to be there if she needed him, for anything. She didn't catch Kathleen's response, but gathered it had something to do with her from the way he turned to look at her. "What did she say to you?" she asked when they were walking back towards the cars.

"That it was good to see you were still watching out for me." He put his hand on her back; not so much to guide her, more because they both needed the contact right now.

"It's what partners do." She reminded him, not sure about applying the word in all its contexts to their new relationship, though it semed to fit them somehow.

"I know."

The End


End file.
